Harry Potter and the City of Madness
by Shamrock Holmes
Summary: (Prequel to Ginny Weasley and the Squire of Wordenshire) With a deranged murder on the loose, Harry is relocated to Gotham for his protection. Unsurprisingly, given the city's history, things don't exactly go to plan, sending him on his first steps to his new destiny... Chalant.


**LoDK**

**The Legacy of the Dark Knight Saga**

**Harry Potter and the City of Madness  
**

**Chapter 1: The Prisoner of Azkaban**

_Disclaimer: This is solely a not-for-profit fan activity, and does not intend to infringe on copyrights held by Time Warner, DC Comics, Bloomsbury et al, and JK Rowling. Any characters original to this work remain the property of the author.  
_

_A/N: This story diverges significantly from accepted canon for the _Harry Potter_ series from the outset, as in addition to the crossover elements, there are several deviations from the books that will be covered where they fit into the narrative. The timeline of the _DC Comics_ elements borrows heavily from _Young Justice (2011), _but adds elements and characters from the comics, and relocates the series to the late Sixties and early Seventies rather than the New Tens as screened, and is heavy on 'legacy' and original characters as a result. _

_A/N: Unless stated otherwise, the action of this story takes place in the run up to and during the 1993-1994 school year (301-302 'Anno Secreto' or 'Year of Secrecy') parallel to the events of _Prisoner of Azkaban_ in canon. The year code 'AL' is also my own invention and stands for "After Liberation", counting the years after the Justice League's ending of the "Apokolips War", my as-yet unwritten take on the events of _Young Justice Season 3 (_Set late 1973 to April 1976)._

* * *

**Prosser House,  
****Clitheroe, BB7  
****30th July, 0755 BST, 17AL.**

Harry was just finishing the washing up from breakfast – which he _hadn't _cooked and _had _eaten his fill of, unlike with the Dursleys' – when there was a knock on the door. "Cousin Beryl… _door_!"

There was a low conversation in the hall for a few moments, then Beryl stuck her head in the kitchen. "Are you finished the washing-up?"

Harry hung the dishcloth on its hook and turned around. "Yeah, why?"

"Someone from the Ministry of Magic is here to see us."

"About Hogwarts?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No… something else," Beryl replied.

Her tone was a little odd, not like her usual perky, but slightly sarcastic tone, and it was giving Harry a bad feeling. "It's not good… is it?"

Beryl paused, then shook her head. "No, it isn't," she admitted. "I'll let her explain."

Harry followed his guardian out of the kitchen and into the house's small living room. A square-jawed witch, with close-cropped grey hair and a monocle, was sitting in Will's favourite chair next to the fireplace. "Mister Potter?"

"That's me," Harry confirmed, taking a seat on the sofa. His cousin took a seat beside him rather than her usual armchair. "What can I help you with?"

"My name is Amelia Bones," said the witch. "I lead the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry."

"Okay."

"What do you know about Sirius Black?"

Harry paused to consider the question, "Isn't he in prison?"

"He _was_," agreed Madam Bones.

"Was?"

"He is escaped from Azkaban Prison yesterday," replied Madam Bones. "We believe he may be coming after you."

"Why?"

"The public believe that Black was imprisoned for murdering thirteen people in the autumn of eighty-one, this is only part of the story…"

Harry considered that for a moment, _Nineteen eighty-one…_ "He had something to do with my parents' death, didn't he?"

"Some aren't entirely convinced…"

"I'm one of them," said his cousin. "There's something about it that doesn't track…"

"Nonetheless…" said Bones. "The Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them thanks to Professor Dumbledore's spies within the Death Eaters. Due to the difficulty of hiding from You-Know-Who, Professor Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"Fidelius Charm?" asked Harry.

"It's an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, known as the Secret-Keeper, and becomes impossible to find. Unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. Otherwise, You-Know-Who could have searched Godric's Hollow for years and never find them."

"And Black was my parents' Secret-Keeper?" asked Harry.

Madam Bones nodded. "According to Professor Dumbledore, James Potter told him that that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself... Apparently, the Headmaster offered to be the Potters' Secret-Keeper himself."

"Why?"

"It was commonly known among senior Ministry officials at the time, that You-Know-Who had a spy close on the light side who had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to him."

"But my parents insisted on using Black?"

"Indeed," confirmed Madam Bones. "And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed, You-Know-Who attacked you and your parents at Godric's Hollow and you defeated him."

"What happened next?"

"Black tried to flee but was confronted by one of the Potters' other friends, Peter Pettigrew, who tried to delay him long enough for Hit Wizards to catch up. Unfortunately, Pettigrew and twelve Muggles were killed in an explosion – apparently caused by Black – before they could get there. But they were able to capture him and due to Black confessing that it was 'all his fault', my predecessor – Bartemius Crouch – authorised his immediate detention in Azkaban."

Harry's initial reaction was horror and anger, but then the lessons that Beryl had been giving him lately clicking in. _That didn't sound quite right… _"But he got a trial afterwards, right?"

Beryl smiled slightly at that. "You _have _been playing attention in my lessons, Harry. That was the first thing _I _noticed too."

"In answer to your question, Mr Potter… The answer is 'no', Black did _not_ receive a trial. Nor was he ever questioned. Eye witness testimony implicated him in the deaths of Pettigrew and the Muggles, and Professor Dumbledore's testimony was considered enough in the Potter case."

"That's _crazy_!"

Beryl frowned at him. "I agree, Harry. But without alternative evidence I don't think there's anything we can do. I've contacted the Watchtower and Supermartian is going to run a database search for old surveillance of the 'gas explosion' and he's also going to put League members into the field to try and locate Black first."

Madam Bones didn't look anywhere near as pleased about that as Harry was.

"In the meantime, we need to get you somewhere safe."

"I still say that you should let the Ministry post guards…"

"With all due respect, Madam Bones, Black escaped from Azkaban… which is supposed to be impossible… so if you don't mind, I'll use my own resources."

"The League might be powerful, but they can't possibly understand the ramifications of dealing with a cunning and ruthless psychopath like Black."

Beryl _giggled_ at that.

"What's so funny?"

"Actually, Madam Bones…" said Beryl, her slight smile widening to a grin. "I know some people — far enough away from here to protect Harry — who have a lot of experience with _exactly_ that."

"Where?"

********  
**Mid-Air over the US East Coast,  
****1st August, 1635 EDT**

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost," Harry told her, glancing at his watch, and trying to guess. After a few moments, he gave up. "We should be landing in the next few minutes?" he said, glancing at the third member of their party.

Violet Harper — a blond woman a few years older than Jamie's mother — nodded. "There should be a car waiting for us when we land. You'll be able to relax within the hour."

"Yes!" squealed Jamie.

Harry smiled, his 'sister' might have more experience flying than he did, but she bored easily so the seven hours stuck in an airplane had been challenging for her.

Half-an-hour later, the trio had collected their luggage and were walking out into the arrivals lounge, the Markovian diplomatic passports provided by Violet's contacts clearing the path for 'Timothy Hunter and Jane Drew'. Violet scanned the crowd for a moment until she spotted a familiar face. An athletic-looking dark-skinned woman. "Julia, it's good to see you!"

"Thanks, you too," said the older woman. "Shall we get going?"

"Yes, that's probably best," agreed Violet. "Are we going to Wayne Manor or The Penthouse?"

"The Penthouse," said Julia. "It was decided that the manor is too approachable if the target does make it here."

"Makes sense," Violet agreed and indicated that Julia should lead the way out of the airport.

About an hour later, their car was cruising past a large inter-city park and towards a huge, thousand-feet tall spire, tied into the railway lines around it with an observation deck covered by a giant glass dome at the tip. They slipped into the underground parking garage, and within moments they were in the top floor. Seconds later, the elevator opened into the reception area of the suite and the British visitors and their American escorts were confronted by a large group of people: they were mostly dark-haired Caucasians, but a few blondes, a redhead or two, a smattering of blacks and even a small, wiry Asian woman caught his eye as he scanned the group

The long-haired man at the centre of the group — who looked like he might be the eldest — stepped forward, with a woman about the same age flanking him on one side and a teenage couple — a blond girl and a dark-haired boy that resembled the two adults — on the other. "Harry, Jamie, my name is Dick Grayson… this is my wife Zatanna, my son John, and my ward Amber Sanderson… welcome to our home."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Grayson," said Harry. "Thank you for having us."

"Call me Dick," said the man, Harry detected a slight, electronic whine as he shifted position to offer a hand in welcome. "Or Uncle Dick if you prefer — several kids your age do — and it's a pleasure."

"You're not worried about…?" Harry asked as he took the man's offered hand and shook it.

"Harry, this is _Gotham_. Deranged, homicidal psychopaths were practically our _signature_ for _decades_… I've been dealing with them on-and-off since I was about your sister's age." Dick assured him. "Would you like some food, or did you want to get some rest?"

"Food I think," Harry decided. "I'm still pretty stiff from the flight."

"Follow me then," said Dick, placing a hand on each of their shoulders and steering them towards a huge buffet table set up against one wall. "Julia will sort out your bags."

Half-an-hour later, while relaxing on a full belly, Harry considered the crowd, a few had departed but many of them were still there and they were a formidable sight. _You know, I think Beryl was right… the League _do _know what they are doing_…"

********  
**Gotham Academy,  
****Gotham  
****13th October, 1545 EDT**

Usually, the Wayne family's housekeeper Julia picked up Harry from school so he was a little surprised when Amber and John was waiting for him when he got of class, usually the older teens — who had their own car — disappeared off after school to meet up with friends. "Where's Julia?" Harry asked as he followed them out to the parking lot.

"Gotham General called an hour ago," John replied, despite being the younger of the two, he was the spokesman for the pair. "Her father has taken a turn for the worse so she's gone to the hospital to be with him."

"Will he be okay?" Harry had only met the elderly man briefly when he first arrived, like Mr Wayne he tended to stay at the old Wayne Mansion rather than in the penthouse with the Graysons, but he could tell he was important to many of his hosts.

John paused for a moment, apparently not sure whether to continue, but eventually shook his head. "Unfortunately, not."

"John!"

"He's going to find out eventually, Amber," John countered. "He has MacGregor's Syndrome. It was only a crazily experimental treatment – invented by _Mister Freeze_ no-less – that saved him back before the Apokolips War. My dad and Uncle Damian have had some of the best medical researchers in the world trying to improve on Freeze's treatment ever since but…"

"Freeze may have been a lunatic, but he was a scientifically brilliant one," offered Amber. "At least according to the files I've read."

John nodded. "My dad agrees."

By this time, they had reached the parking lot and John led the way to his car — an old but well-preserved pre-Apokolips War red sports car — that he'd been given by his "Uncle Tim" after he got his licence. "Julia's also asked us to pick up your sister from Gotham Elementary on the way back." John told Harry as he unlocked the driver's door and then pushed the seat forward to allow access to the back seat.

Without further prompting, Harry squeezed into the small back seat, while Amber joined John in the front. The older teen checked to see the coast was clear and then pulled out of the lot, heading towards the elementary school.

********  
**Wayne Tower,  
****1700 EDT**

When they arrived back at the tower, there was no sign of either of John's parents, but a message light was blinking on the main screen. John triggered the message and his father's voice came over the speakers.

"_The hospital called again a little while ago. They think that he'll pass in the next few hours, Zee and I have gone to the hospital to be with Damian and Julia. John, I know you probably want to come to the hospital, but I want you to stay with Harry and Jamie._ _I don't think we'll be more than a few hours, but in case we are I've asked Jean-Paul to look in on you after work. Stay safe._"

The screen went black and John tabbed it off. Then he turned around and Harry could tell that he was putting on a 'brave face'. "Pizza?"

********  
**Wayne Tower,  
****16th October 1993, 1200 EDT.**

"Are you ready, girls?" asked Harry from outside their room. He was wearing a dark suit and a black tie.

"Almost, Harry," said Amber from inside. "Just a minute."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "But we've only got half-an-hour to get to the cathedral..."

A moment later, the door opened and the two girls came out. Both were wearing modest, sleeveless dresses in dark grey. "Don't worry about it, we'll be fine."

Harry nodded, somewhat relieved. After everything the Graysons' had done for him and his sister over the last few weeks, he didn't want to disappoint them by being late. He led the way back out to the main living area where Jean-Paul and John were waiting, like Harry both were dressed in dark suits and ties.

"Can we go?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Jean-Paul told him. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

******  
Gotham Cathedral,  
****Old Gotham.  
****1210 EDT**

True to his word, it didn't take long for Jean-Paul to make the trip. At the entrance, a guestbook was set-up on a podium, flanked by an ashen-faced Goth woman and a black man who Harry thought would make a good Beater.

"Jean-Paul," acknowledged the black man.

"Victor, Rachel," replied Jean-Paul, moving to write in the guestbook. "Do Dick and Zee know you're here?"

"Of course," the woman assured him. She paused while the Graysons, Harry and Jamie wrote in the guest book. "Kids, Richard says you should go up the front row, that's where the family is sitting."

John nodded, then as soon as Jean-Paul had found a seat, he led the way up to the front of the room. Harry glanced over the crowd as they walked up. He recognised a lot of faces on one side of the aisle from the gathering when he and Jamie arrived like the Drakes, Cass Cain, Duke Thomas, Artemis Crock and her niece Lian, Drs Hawkins and Pierce and many more…

Further towards the front, he began to recognise a few faces on the other side of the aisle: Comr. Montoya and her partner Kate; D.A. Young with his wife Barbara and his daughter Sarah; several members of the Wayne board that had visited the Penthouse at various points with Lukas Fox towering of most them even seated; and finally to his surprise a VIP _not_ normally found in Gotham… LexCorp CEO Alexander Luthor.

_I wonder what _he's _doing here?_ Harry wondered. _Relations between Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp might be better now than they were in his father's day… but why would a _Luthor _attend a 'servant's' funeral?  
_

He didn't have long to ponder the question though, as they had reached the front of the room. The elder Graysons had staked out the first two seats in from the aisle, so he and the other three children took the space they had left between them and Julia who appeared to be 'hiding' at the far end of the row.

Once everyone was seated, a pastor stepped up the pulpit. "We are gathered here today to mark the passing of a great man…"

After the pastor had said his piece, Uncle Dick rose and replaced him at the podium, "Most of you know who I am, and my history with the family… I first met Alfred Pennyworth over thirty years ago… I had just seen the rest of my family die or be paralysed in the kind of tragic 'accident' that was all too common in Gotham in those days. I was scared, lonely and desperately looking for reassurance in a world that didn't seem to make sense anymore."

Here he paused for a moment to collect himself. "And as much as he tried to — _wanted to_ — provide that, Bruce _couldn't_… not that day… and when I was confronted by his butler — wearing clothes as weird as anything I'd ever seen in the circus — I expected to be the same again… but Alfred, despite his formal British exterior was one of the sweetest, most genuinely caring men you could ever hope to meet, and he 'knew' what I needed to hear at that horrible time in my life to make things just a little easier."

There was a general murmer of agreement among the mourners at that. "And it wasn't just then… As many of you know, life in Gotham has its challenges, and Alfred was always there to offer food, a cup of tea or even just an inciteful remark or bit of advice, even if you didn't want to hear it." He paused again, and smiled slightly. "Perhaps most of all _when _you didn't want to hear it but you needed to." His smile faltered slightly, but then he regathered his strength to finish. "Alfred Pennyworth was a great man, and we are greater for having known him and less for his loss. He will be missed."

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was originally posted as a prologue of _Fourth Champion back in 2017 and was inspired by the — then recent — _death of my grandma, one of the few relatives I have that I was on speaking terms with._


End file.
